"Rusch,_Kristine_Kathryn_-_The_Retrieval_Artist" - читать интересную книгу автора (Rusch Kristine Kathryn)

As we all did.
"Think about it," I said, handing her a card with my chip on it. "I'll be here for two days."
XI
They hired me, of course. What thinking person wouldn't? I had to guarantee that I wouldn't kill Anetka when I got her out of the business -- and I did that, by assuring Sylvy that I wasn't now nor would I ever be an assassin -- and I had to guarantee that I would get the Wygnin off her son's trail.
I agreed to both conditions, and for the first time in years, I did something other than tracking a Disappeared.
Through channels, I let it drop that I was searching for the real heir to Carson Sobol's considerable fortune. Then I showed some of my actual research -- into the daughter's history, the falsified birth date, the inaccurate records. I managed to dump information about Anetka's cloning and her sex change, and I tampered with the records to show that her clone mark had been faked just as her sex had. Alterations, done at birth, made her look like a clone when she really wasn't.
I made sure that my own work on-line looked like sloppy detecting, but I hid the changes I made in other files. I did all of this quickly and thoroughly, and by the time I was done, it appeared as though Carson Sobol had hidden his own heir -- originally a son -- by making him into a daughter and passing him off as a clone.
At that point, I could have sat back and let events move forward by themselves. But I didn't. This had become personal.
I had to see Anetka one last time.
I set an appointment to hand-deliver my final bill.
XII
This time she was wearing emeralds, an entire sheath covered with them. I had heard that there would be a gala event honoring one of the galaxy's leaders, but I had forgotten that the event would be held in Armstrong, at one of the poshest restaurants on the Moon.
She was sweeping up her long hair, letting it fall just below the mark on the back of her head, when I entered. As she turned, she stabbed an emerald haircomb into the bun at the base of her neck.
"I don't have much time," she said.
"I know." I closed the door. "I wanted give you my final bill."
"You found my sister?" There was a barely concealed excitement in her voice.
"No." The room smelled of an illegal perfume. I was surprised no one had confiscated it when she got off the shuttle and then I realized she probably hadn't taken a shuttle. Even the personal items bag she wore that first day had been part of her act. "I'm resigning."
She shook her head slightly. "I might have known you would. You have enough money now, so you're going to quit."
"I have enough information now to know you're not the kind of person I relish working for."
She raised her eyebrows. The movement dislodged the tiny emerald attached to her left cheek. She caught it just before it fell to the floor. "I thought you were done investigating me."
"Your father's dead," I said. "He has been for three years, although the Third Dynasty has managed to keep that information secret, knowing the effect his death would have had on galactic confidence in the business."
She stared at me for a moment, clearly surprised. "Only five of us knew that."
"Six," I said.
"You found my mother." She stuck the emerald in its spot.
"You found the alarm. You knew she'd been notified of your father's death."
The emerald wasn't staying on her cheek. Anetka let out a puff of air, then set the entire kit down. "I really didn't appreciate the proxy program," she said. "It notified me of my insignificance an hour after my father breathed his last. It told me to go about my life with my own fortune and abandon my place in the Third Dynasty to my Original."
"Which you didn't do."
"Why should I? I knew more about the business than she ever would."
"Including the Wygnin."
She leaned against the dressing table. "You're much better than I thought."
"And you're a lot more devious than I gave you credit for."
She smiled and tapped her left cheek. "It's the face. Youth still fools."
Perhaps it did. I usually didn't fall for it, though. I couldn't believe I had this time. I had simply thought I was being as cautious as usual. What Anetka Sobol had taught me was that being as cautious as usual wasn't cautious enough.
"Pay me, and I'll get out of here," I said.
"You've found my mother. You may as well tell me where she is."
"So you can turn your Original over to the Wygnin?"
That flat look came back into her eyes. "I wouldn't do that."
"How would you prevent it? The Wygnin have a valid debt."
"It's twenty-seven years old."
"The Wygnin hold onto markers for generations." I paused, then added, "As you well know."
"You can't prove what I do and do not know."
I nodded. "True enough. Information is always tricky. It's so easy to tamper with."
Her eyes narrowed. She was smart, probably one of the smartest people I'd ever come up against. She knew I was referring to something besides our discussion.
"So I'm getting out." I handed her a paper copy of the bill -- rare, unnecessary, and expensive. She knew that as well as I did. Then, as soon as she took the paper from my hand, I pressed my wrist-top to send the electronic version. "You owe me money. I expect payment within the hour."
She crumpled the bill. "You'll get it."
"Good." I pulled open the door.
"You know," she said, just loud enough for me to hear, "if you can find my mother, anyone can."
"I've already thought of that," I said, and left.
XIII
The Wygnin came for her later that night, toward the end of the gala. Security tried to stop them until they showed a valid warrant for the heir of Carson Sobol. The entire transaction caused an interstellar incident, and the vidnets were filled with it for days. The Third Dynasty used its attorneys to try to prove that Anetka was the eighth clone, just as everyone thought she was, but the Wygnin didn't believe it.